


What Drunk Hermione Did

by enigmaticdiscipline



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking, F/M, HP: EWE, I dont know how to do tags, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, but because one of them doesn't remember, mostly hermione's fic, not as dubious as it seems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticdiscipline/pseuds/enigmaticdiscipline
Summary: Hermione wakes up in a bed that isn't hers. Antics ensue.





	1. Hungover Hermione

The first thing Hermione registered as she drifted into consciousness was the smell of her pillow. It wasn’t her usual Fresh Meadow laundry detergent, but it was still somehow familiar. This pillow smelled of Earl Grey tea and vanilla and cinnamon and something else she couldn’t quite identify. A shadow moved across her mind, but she didn’t recognize it.

This image was quickly wiped from her mind as she now noticed the throbbing ache in her head. Her mouth was dry. _Shit!_ How much had she had to drink with Ginny and Luna last night? Hermione couldn’t remember feeling this hungover in years, perhaps ever.

With her eyes still clamped shut against the daylight, Hermione reached out to retrieve her wand from her nightside table, hoping to close the curtains on the searing sunlight before fully opening her eyes. As she groped, blindly, Hermione’s hand knocked into something solid and she heard a crash. Hermione flinched at the loud noise and resentfully opened her eyes, squinting in its direction. Shattered glass sat in the middle of a large puddle, growing steadily on her floor. She groaned again. It seemed Drunk Hermione was more sensible than Hungover Hermione. Hermione stared numbly at the broken glass of water sat on the floor a moment longer before a thought popped into her head.

 _My floors aren’t stained that color_. It was far too dark and rich to be her oak. Hermione looked over to the bedside table. It wasn’t hers either. Those weren’t her books atop it, and her mother’s alarm clock wasn’t sat on the stack. Realization and panicked sobriety hit Hermione like a train. _Where the bloody hell am I?_ She sat up too quickly and groaned at the wave of nausea that ran through her. Hermione cradled her head as she processed. She was in someone else’s home, in someone else’s bed. Taking a deep breath, she peered down at her body warily. _Shit._ She was also naked. It seems that Drunk Hermione had gone home with someone last night, and she had no idea who.

Whoever it was, Hermione guessed they weren’t there anymore. No one was in the bedroom and no one had come running at the crash of the glass breaking. Hermione reached for her wand instinctually to repair the glass before she remembered that she didn’t have it. Hoping it was close enough, she held out her hand and uttered an _Accio!_ Her wand flew out from under the bed and into her hand.

As Hermione repaired the glass and cleaned up the water, the thought occurred to her that perhaps it hadn’t been Drunk Hermione to leave the glass of water for her after all. She looked around the room again. No obvious clues leapt out to her as to who she had spent the night with, like a body in the bed beside her, or a name of the bed’s owner painted helpfully on the ceiling. The room was simply decorated, but the pieces in it were ornate and sophisticated. A four-poster bed that reminded her of the ones at Hogwarts donned a plush comforter and far too many pillows, some of which seemed to be knocked to the floor. A dresser that could have been mahogany stood on the other side of the bed.

As she stood and pulled the sheet from the bed to wrap around her, she noticed a slip of parchment just under the bed. Hermione snatched it up, hoping to find a clue. Unfortunately, it seemed the parchment had sat in the puddle, and the water had run the ink. Now dry, only some of the letters were legible. She did her best to decipher it.

_Sorry to le--- y--. H-d -- -- a m------g ---- AM. I --- a g---t t---. Owl m-._

Hermione thought she could piece it together for the most part. It did seem to be a note for her. However, the signature seemed to just be a single letter and it was completely gone. Sighing, Hermione began to search around for her clothes. She spotted her bra and panties at the foot of the bed and put them on, feeling like she would very much like a shower. She kept the sheet around her as an extra layer of security as she prepared to venture into the rest of this stranger’s home.

As she went to open the door, a memory flashed through her mind. Darkness and a tall figure pushing her back into the door, a ghost between them, one hand on her face and the other at the nape of her neck, tilting her head up to meet his. Her hands pressed into his bare chest. _Hermione._ Hermione’s stomach dropped and a warmth grew there. She had felt it rather than saw it. No face appeared in her mind.

Hermione shook her head to dispel the sensations and vague recollections. She opened the door and found herself in a short hallway. One doorway led to a kitchen and diner. It looked normal enough, functional yet posh. The windows showed a London skyline. That knowledge didn’t help much considering the number of people who lived in London. She followed the kitchen through to a small room with a desk. On the desk lay a stack of parchment. Hermione was about to peek for more clues, when she spotted a lovely grandfather clock in the corner. As she admired the Georgian clock, she registered the time it read. It was half-past ten! She was going to be late for the shower. The stupid shower that was the reason she’d even been out drinking last night in the first place.

Hermione rushed through to the lounge, spotted her heels by the door and then looked frantically around for her dress. She finally spotted the heap of blue fabric on the dark couch. Struggling to quickly untangle herself from the sheet and snatch up the remainder of her clothes, she tripped. “Bloody --!” Hermione freed her foot from the sheet, stood gripping last night’s garments, and spun on the spot, apparating home.


	2. Late Hermione

When Hermione appeared outside the Burrow, she was freshly showered, dressed, and done up appropriately for the party--and only twenty minutes late. Hermione ran a hand over her skirt, smoothing it down one last time before entering. As she stepped through the front door into the Burrow, an overwhelming feeling of home rushed through her. Having spent summers here for the greater part of her time at Hogwarts, this house and the people who lived here were the majority of who she could call family. For a long time, she thought they might end up being her family in name as well, but things change. A small, sad smile crossed her lips. Hermione scolded herself and walked into the den to find it full of familiar faces and was greeted with a great big hug from a beaming Ginny, though the hug was a bit lopsided due to the rather prominent belly currently protruding between them.

“Congratulations again, Ginny,” Hermione said as they pulled apart. “This is for you.” Hermione, grinning, handed her the wrapped package she was holding. Hermione was rather proud of it and hoped Ginny and Harry would appreciate it.

“Thanks, love. It’s gorgeous.” Ginny examined the parcel wrapped in brown parchment with golden, enchanted designs of children flying around the gift on brooms. “You know," Ginny looked up, "I was a bit worried that you weren’t going to be able to make it out of bed this morning. When I left the Leaky last night, you and Luna were still going hard.” Ginny laughed, brushing her long red hair out of her face and behind her ear. She seemed to miss the alarmed look that flashed briefly across Hermione’s face.

“Well, it was a bit of a close thing.” Hermione blushed at the eventful morning she had had. Ginny shot her a stern look. Hermione stepped minutely away from Ginny's glare.

“You, Hermione Jean Granger, of all people are allowed to have fun and let loose every now and then," her voice grew larger. "You work too hard and too long. Everyone agrees.” Ginny grabbed her hand, turned and began to lead her through the room and the crowd of people. Hermione echoed the hellos and how-are-yous she received as they moved purposefully through the den.

“Maybe not that loose,” she muttered to herself, but Ginny’s ever-sensitive ears caught her words. Ginny stopped, turned to scrutinize Hermione for a moment before raising an eyebrow and smirking. “Hermione,” Ginny’s tone was light, but it barely hid her glee, “did something happen last night?” Hermione felt her face turn red, and she looked around for someone to come save her. She wasn’t ready to discuss this. She wasn't even sure how to discuss this or what  _this_ had been. Ginny’s intentionally mild expression morphed into a devious grin, and Hermione waited for the avalanche that was about to come crashing down upon her.

“Hermione, dear!” Mrs. Weasley--Molly--swooped in and gave Hermione a giant hug and pulled back with a kind smile. “Come, grab some food, dear. You do look too thin these days.” She said, looking Hermione up and down. The concerned look in Molly's eyes left an ache in Hermione’s chest that she quickly pushed away.

Ginny huffed a bit behind them, and then called at Hermione’s back “We’ll continue this later!” as Molly ushered Hermione out the back door to the mountain of food set up in the garden, Hermione noted just how much alike Molly and Ginny were. Mrs. Weasley deposited her at the table then rushed to tend to someone else who needed her. Deciding to simply do as Molly says, Hermione claimed a plate and a napkin and set about getting some lunch. As she appraised the spread, Hermione’s stomach rumbled angrily, reminding her that she had not eaten anything yet today aside from some muggle painkillers. Hermione had not had any reason to keep hangover potion in her potion cabinet in quite some time. She had settled instead for a couple pills from her muggle stash. A stash that Ron had examined suspiciously on many occasions, questioning her need for them and dubious about their effectiveness. However, Hermione felt a certain fondness for the remedies that she was raised on--including spoonfuls of peanut butter for hiccups and mint tea for cramps. Besides, in her research, Hermione could find no evidence that there was any chemical difference between muggles' bodies and witches' bodies. So, paracetamol and a glass of water should still do the trick.

As Hermione filled her plate with tea sandwiches and puddings, her mind wandered back to last night. The three of them had gone to the Leaky to celebrate Ginny’s upcoming due date with Luna while she was still in town--and Europe for that matter. Luna had had to leave early that morning on another of her expeditions, this time to South America, searching for some creature. Hermione had forgotten which one. Hermione could remember when Ginny had said goodbye the night previous because she had declared that she could no longer stand to listen to Hermione and Luna debate Magical Creature Legislation sober. Hermione smiled at the memory of a very sober and very pregnant Ginny fending off her and Luna’s attempts to get her to stay with hugs and declarations of love when a familiar voice interrupted her.

“What are you smiling at?” Hermione looked up to see Harry Potter filling a plate across from her. He looked good, Hermione noted. A bit tired, perhaps, but happy. His hair was the same as ever, black and messy in a way that was almost impossible to comprehend. Hermione had gotten quite familiar with it during their time in hiding back in seventh year. She had been attempting to coax it into a more tame mess in their seemingly infinite free time in the forest and concluded in frustration that it was best simply left to its own devices. It was even less manageable than her own head of hair, and that was saying something.

“Oh, just how little patience for business talk your wife had last night.” Hermione gave him a wry smile.

“Ah, yes, I seem to remember something being mentioned about ‘idiots who don’t understand what a day off is’ as she came home last night.” Harry moved to swing an arm around her shoulder before leaning in conspiratorially, “Not sure what it could be, but Gin seems a bit more irritable lately.” The corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

“Yes,” Hermione mused, returning Harry’s mock covert glance, “quite the mystery. Perhaps an old-fashioned investigation is in order. Maybe even another midnight sneaking into the restricted section.” Harry’s grin broke, and he gave her a full hug. “Seriously, Harry, congratulations! How are you feeling these days? Feel ready?” Hermione selected a sandwich from her pile and bit into it. Turkey and figs.

“Definitely not ready.” Harry looked earnest as he picked his plate back up, “But we have finished up the baby’s room now, so I guess it is just me we have to get ready.”

“Harry, you’ll be an amazing dad,” she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I know it.”

“See, mate? If Hermione says it, it’s gotta be true.” Hermione looked to see Ron Weasley grinning at them as he approached the table. He clapped Harry on the back then reached down to give Hermione a hug. Ron had finally stopped growing at 21, surpassing all his brothers and his father at 6’4". It was a full foot he had on Hermione, and she was still a bit envious every time she hugged him. Her arm slid easily around his middle. Though he was no longer truly gangly, having built some mass and muscle with quidditch and Auror training, he was still rather slim. “How about you then,” Hermione directed up at Ron, “are you ready to be an uncle?” He grinned down at her.

“Old news! I’m already an uncle, with Victoire and Roxie and Teddy, really. I’m just excited to watch Harry and Gin try to take on the little trouble-making monster that is bound pop out.” Harry gave Ron a betrayed look, and Ron guffawed. "Really, though, mate. The child of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley is not going to be a bloody angel."

Hermione took another bite of her sandwich as she laughed along with her two oldest friends. Suddenly, a small but powerful force collided with Hermione’s legs. She looked down to see a bright blue head of hair clinging to her thighs. “Oh, Hello, Teddy! How are you, darling?”

“Auntie Mione!” Teddy pulled back to look up at her, “I am good. I have to bring Harry because it is time for presents!” Teddy cheered as he detached himself fully from Hermione’s legs so she could give him a real hug.

‘Well, Goodness, we better deliver him to Ginny then. We wouldn’t want to miss the presents.” Teddy, now released, turned to grab Harry’s hand and began to urgently pull him out to the garden where the group was gathering around a seated Ginny and what appeared to be a doting but somewhat smothering Molly. Ron and Hermione followed behind, and Ron reached out to snare a sandwich from Hermione's plate.

"Your mother won't like you stealing from my plate: she's saying I'm too thin again," Hermione said conversationally, picking out a biscuit to munch on next.

"She says that to everyone. You're fine," Ron gave her an appraising look, the kind he usually wore when he played chess--left arm tucked below his elbow and right hand on his chin. "Though, maybe could do with a bit more sleep." He tapped his undereye with his finger.

"Ronald!" Hermione smacked his arm, but she was laughing. "You can't say that to someone." 

"What did he say?" Susan Bones asked as she appeared beside Ron from the crowd of people in the garden. "Hello, Hermione," she smiled at Hermione, raising her hand in a small wave.

"Susan, good to see you," Hermione smiled back and offered a hug. Susan accepted, smiling bigger than before. Hermione sighed internally. "Ron here has just told me I look tired from the giant bags I have under my eyes." 

"I said no such thing." Ron said as he absentmindedly grabbed Susan's hand.

"You implied it." Hermione glared at him. Ron feigned indignance, and Susan giggled. 

"Ron, stop insulting Hermione. She can still out-duel you, even if you are an Auror." Susan said mildly. 

"You're not on my side?" Ron asked indignantly. Susan shook her head.

"Of course I am on your side. That's why I don't want you to lose your bollocks in a duel with Hermione Granger." Susan smiled up at him sweetly. Hermione laughed, and Ron cracked a grin. 

"Fair enough." 

Suddenly a small bang sounded from the center of the group. Hermione looked around to see red colored smoke rising in ringlets from what looked like a small holiday cracker in George's hands. "All right, all you baby fans gather round. Harry is going to say some dull words about babies and families," George unfolded a crown from the cracker and placed it on Ginny's head. It was covered in moving images of babies crawling and cooing, and one rather large one crying. "and then we will finally get our entertainment for the afternoon: a very pregnant Ginny opening this pile presents." Hermione laughed and cheered along with her friends and family as Harry stood up beside Ginny to speak. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fic. Feel free to leave thoughts, comments, suggestions. May rewrite or edit posted chapters. Will try to make it into a complete fic with a proper beginning, middle, and end.


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